Don't Die Dragonfly (16 page)

“Hours?” I repeated uneasily. Then I bolted past him, up the stairs, Thorn’s footsteps pounding behind mine. I tried two doors, one was a linen closet and the other a bathroom, before I stepped into a feminine, pink-and-white room decorated with a shelf of dolls from other countries and a canopy bed covered with stuffed toys and a patchwork quilt.

But there was no Danielle.

“So where’s your friend?” Thorn asked.

“Not here.” I frowned. “Something’s terribly wrong.”

Mr. Crother appeared in the doorway and looked around with a puzzled expression. “That’s odd. I was sure Danielle was up here. She hasn’t been well and has been sleeping a lot.”

Beyond the room’s cheerful pink decor, a gray aura of sadness was overwhelming. “So where is she?”

Mr. Crother shrugged. “Maybe with her boyfriend.”

“They broke up,” I told him.

“They did? But she never said anything.”

“Haven’t you noticed how unhappy she’s been?” I asked.

“Well she hasn’t felt well. I thought it was a mild flu.”

“I’m afraid it’s more than that.” I frowned. “Do you have any idea how long she’s been gone?”

“She didn’t tell me she was leaving.” He rubbed his chin anxiously. “This isn’t like her. She’s always very dependable and let’s us know where she’s going. Danielle is such a good girl.”

“What’s that on her pillow?” Thorn stepped into the room and picked up a paper. “An envelope—addressed to you.” She handed it to Mr. Crother.

“See, I told you my girl is reliable. She just didn’t want to interrupt my work, so she left a note. She’s always doing thoughtful things like that.”

He ripped into the envelope and withdrew a single sheet of paper. As he read, his face drained of color and he sagged against the bed.

“What is it?” Thorn and I asked, coming to his side.

“She can’t! She wouldn’t—” he choked on his words.

“Is it from Danielle?”

He nodded weakly and held out the letter. He looked as if he’d aged twenty years in seconds and seemed confused. “Read it. Tell me what you think.”

I held the letter so Thorn could see to, then read the short scrawled message: “I can’t go on without him. Not anymore. Sorry I let everyone down … Danielle.”

I gasped. “Ohmygod!”

“This sounds like a sui—!” Thorn stopped when she saw the stricken look on Mr. Crother’s face. He grabbed the letter back and clutched it to his chest, clearly in shock.

My visions had nothing to do with the vandalism, I realized. I’d been so focused on denying my gift and playing Nancy Drew that I hadn’t realized the danger for Danielle wasn’t from Evan—but from herself. And while getting back at Evan felt good, it was only a small victory. Danielle was more important.

Mr. Crother seemed to recover, jumping up and grabbing a phone. He forget about us as he barked out orders to the police. I was glad he was taking action, but would the police find her soon enough? An hourglass flashed in my head, not filled with sand, but with life minutes ticking away.

Danielle could be anywhere—miles from here or hiding nearby. I had no idea how to find her. “Opal,” I thought desperately. “Interfere just this once, I’m begging you. I can’t do this alone.”

I thought I heard a soft reply,
You’re not alone.

“So tell me where Danielle is,” I begged. Then I waited, listening for an answer. Only none came, and my frustration boiled to anger.

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” I silently raged. “I can’t go through another tragedy, always wondering if I could have prevented it. You say I’m not alone, yet I’m standing here with no answers and no one to help me.”

There was a tap on my shoulder and my fishhook earring slapped my neck as I turned to Thorn. “Are you okay?” she asked.

I started to shake my head, then looked at Thorn—really looked—and realized that Opal was right. I wasn’t alone.

“Thorn!” I exclaimed. “You can find anything, right?”

“Most of the time. But what—”

“What about people?” I interrupted, grasping her hands. “Can you find Danielle?”

Thorn sorted through the stuffed animals on Danielle’s bed before picking up a pink bunny and hugging it, her eyes closed tight with concentration.

“I’ve never done this before,” she murmured. “Not with a person.”

“It can’t be that different than finding a fencing grip or lost keys.”

“Oh, it’s different.” She frowned and drifted off somewhere with her mind. Long seconds had gone by before she finally spoke. “It’s faint—a sense of distance.”

“How far?”

“More than a mile, but I don’t know how much more. It’s not working!” She threw the pink bunny down. “I’m trying, really, but it isn’t just a game, it’s real life … or death. I’m not sure she’s—she’s still—”

“Don’t even think that! You’re the one who says to be positive, so follow your own advice. Try harder—you can do it.”

“Maybe if I hold something she’s touched recently.” She picked up the envelope Danielle’s father had discarded, and ran her fingers over the scrawled writing on the front.

“Well?” I asked impatiently.

“This is better. She’s somewhere familiar to her, a place that used to make her feel happy … now there’s only despair.”

“Evan’s house?” I guessed.

“Could be—but it doesn’t feel like a house. A large open place, grassy with benches.” She rubbed her forehead, wincing as if feeling pain.

“A park?”

“No, that doesn’t feel right. There’s some kind of school connection.”

“The school quad? It’s grassy and there are benches. But I doubt she’d go there.”

“Are you sure?”

I bit my lip. How could I be sure of anything? If anyone had told me that Danielle was suicidal, I wouldn’t have believed that either. I’d gotten warnings, saw the bloody dragonfly. I should have known, been a better friend, tried to help her.

You are helping,
Opal assured.
Open up your mind and trust yourself.

And just like that, I got it. A lightning flash burst in my head, and I saw rows of tiered benches and a field of rough grass. A small shape lay crumpled on the dirt.

“Not benches—bleachers!” I jumped excitedly. “I know where Danielle is!”

“You do?” Thorn asked.

“At the school. You were right about that.” I said grimly. “We have to get there before it’s too late—if it isn’t already!”

Night had fallen, and when we hurried back to Dominic’s truck, he had the lights on and the motor running. After a quick explanation, Thorn and I hopped inside and Dominic revved the engine. We sped toward the school. No one complained when Dominic pushed us past the legal limit.

I hoped that Dominic had an army of angels guiding him because he didn’t stop, only paused for a quick look, before speeding through two stop signs. Tires screeched as Dominic pulled into the school, not turning for the student parking lot, but roaring to the front lot reserved for teachers and buses.

“The football field!” I breathed out. “She’s there—by the bleachers, where she watched Evan.”

Thorn told us to go after her, while she’d get help. Dominic and I didn’t slow down, racing around buildings, breathing hard, feet pounding on pavement. We headed for the bleachers—and that’s where we found her.

Lying on the dirt near the bleachers, still and fragile, blood pooling around her outstretched arm. She didn’t move and her face was deathly pale.

“Ohmygod!” I gasped hoarsely. “We’re too late!”

Dominic knelt beside her and felt for a pulse.

“Is she—?” I asked in a trembling voice.

“Not yet, but she’s in bad shape.”

I let out a huge, relieved breath. “Hold on, Danielle,” I murmured. “You’re going to be okay.”

There was no response.

Dominic ripped off the strip of leather he wore on his arm as a perch for his falcon. He wrapped it tightly around Danielle’s wrist, slowing the flow of blood.

There was sudden blinding light, and for a moment I thought angels were coming for Danielle, until I realized someone had switched on the field lights. Turning, I saw Thorn leading a young, nervous janitor over to us.

Within minutes, there was a dizzy rush of voices, sirens, and uniforms. Danielle got first aid and was then whisked away in an ambulance. I went with her, since she seemed so alone, in need of a friend. Thorn and Dominic said they’d meet us at the hospital after they answered questions from the police.

My first ride in an ambulance and I was only aware of Danielle, who was unresponsive as paramedics worked over her. There was nothing to do but watch and pray.

At the hospital, I was directed to a waiting room, where I sat numbly in a hard plastic chair. Nearby, a young mother bit her lip while she clung to a sleeping baby and an elderly man stared blankly at a television fixed high on the wall.

And I waited.

As minutes ticked slowly by on a wall clock, I thought about Danielle and how precious life was—how fragile, too. She’d been on a dangerous course for a long time, only no one had noticed. She’d been what everyone expected: perfect daughter, top student, loyal girlfriend. Yet it wasn’t enough, and somewhere along the way she lost herself. She’d kept her secrets so well, it would have been too late to save her—if it hadn’t been for my visions.

She just has to make it, I thought, still staring at the clock. I crossed my right leg, then my left. I picked up a magazine, then set it aside without looking at it. I shifted to another chair with a better view of the door. What was happening?

The door burst open, and Danielle’s father entered with a slender, black-haired woman who was obviously Danielle’s mother. The woman sank on the couch beside the couple with the baby, while Danielle’s father spotted me and came over.

“Thank you,” Mr. Crother told me.

“For what?”

“They said you found her. She’s holding on but the doctor said if she’d lost any more blood … ” His voice cracked. “That we would—would have lost our daughter.”

“I’m glad she’s okay.”

“You saved her life,” he said. “I—I just felt so useless when I read that letter. Didn’t have any idea where to look. But you found her. How did you know?”

“My friends helped. But we didn’t really know either—it was a lucky guess.”

“Or an answer to our prayers,” he said, giving my hand a tight squeeze.

I knew in that moment that I could tell him the truth about how I really found Danielle. He wouldn’t call me a freak or crazy. He would believe me.

A burden inside me lifted on wings and fluttered away. Foretelling bad things didn’t mean I’d caused them to happen—and this time I’d saved a life.

After a while, Dominic and Thorn picked me up from the hospital. We dropped Thorn off at a single-story home, where toys littered a small patch of front lawn, and then Dominic and I headed back home. When he stepped out of his truck, there was a screech overhead and his falcon fluttered down to greet him.

“Dagger wants a snack,” Dominic said with a tired smile. “I’ll be in the barn if you need anything.”

I looked into his eyes, sending him a silent message of thanks. He nodded, which seemed enough. For now.

Feeling strangely happy, I hurried to the house. Nona must have been watching for me because she rushed out, almost knocking Lillybelle off her favorite perch on a porch rail. “Oh, honey! How is your friend?”

“Alive.”

“Thank the heavens.”

“She’s going to make it, but it’ll take time before she’s well enough to go back to school,” I added.

“Poor child. Her troubles must run deep.”

“No troubles are worth killing yourself over. Why would she do something that dumb? Just because her boyfriend dumped her?”

“I’m sure it’s more than that. I’ve seen clients desperate to fill emptiness by clinging to someone else.”

“Like Evan,” I said with a frown.

“Your friend needs to love herself. With supportive people around, she’ll be all right.”

“I hope so.”

Nona gave me another hug. “I’m proud of you, honey.”

“I didn’t do anything special.”

“You followed your heart and used your gift to save that girl.”

“My gift?” I did a double take. “But you said I’d outgrown it.”

“For a while, I thought you had. You put on a good show and nearly convinced me. You’re the one who denied your ability.”

“Then you believe me?”

“I never really stopped, but I knew it was your choice whether you followed your talents. And I’m delighted you made the right decision.”

“Are you sure it’s the right one?” I asked. “I hear voices, see things that other people can’t, and get warnings that scare me. What kind of gift is that?”

“A precious one. Your ability isn’t for you—it’s for the world.” She looked deep into my eyes and added, “My darling Sabine—
you
are the gift.”

* * *

That night, a sharp noise jerked me out of a dream where my mother had grown into a giant and was chasing me around the barn, trying to stomp me with spiked, truck-sized boots.

Bolting up in my bed, I looked around expecting Mom to burst out from the shadows. I stared around my familiar room and drew comfort from the soft yellow glow of my smiley-faced nightlight. I didn’t need to check Nona’s dream interpretation book to understand my nightmare. Right before I’d gone to bed, Nona had delivered the bad news. My mother had called again, only instead of leaving a new message for me to ignore, she was coming to see me next week.

I’d rather be stomped by giant, spiked shoes.

But the dream wasn’t what had awakened me, I realized when I heard a sharp bang and cry from downstairs.

Putting on a robe, I hurried to Nona’s office and found the door wide open, a triangle of light slicing into the hall. My grandmother sat on the floor among a pile of papers with a terrified look on her face.

“I—I can’t find it,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Find what?” I sat beside her and gently took her hand.

“That’s the problem—I don’t know.”

“What’s going on? Nona, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring me, too.” She gave a brittle laugh and wiped her cheek. “I’ve been putting this off—telling you—but I can’t anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will soon.” Papers scattered as she stood. “Follow me.”

There was something desperate and determined in her voice that stopped me from asking any more questions. Silently, I walked behind her as she stepped outside, passed the chicken pen, and entered the barn. She snapped on a light, then called upstairs to Dominic.

“Why are we here?” I whispered anxiously. “We’ll wake up Dominic.”

“That’s the idea.”

A door from the loft creaked open and Dominic’s tousled head peaked out. I could only see the top of his bare shoulders and a glimpse of dark shorts.

He only needed one look at Nona’s grim expression; then, he turned around and returned a moment later fully clothed. He opened the door in invitation, and Nona led me upstairs toward his apartment.

Dominic pulled up two chairs and gestured for us to sit, while he faced us on the edge of his rumpled bed. It felt odd to sit so close to him, and I scooted my chair back a few inches.

Nona clutched at the fabric of her terry-cloth robe and biting her lips. “Dominic, it happened again … only worse.”

“Are you okay?”

“That isn’t the issue right now. I have to be honest with both of you. What I’m going to tell you won’t be easy,” she said in a quavering voice.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Dominic said, his tone protective.

“I want to—while I still can.”

I looked at Nona. “Does this have to do with whatever you lost tonight?”

“That’s part of it. You’ve probably noticed that’s happened a lot, my forgetting or losing things. At first it was small episodes, missing keys or not calling back a client. Then tonight I panicked and started tearing apart my office.”

“What did you lose?” I asked.

“It’s not what I lost, but what I’m losing.” She lifted her shoulders and gave Dominic a steady, determined look. “Get the box.”

“But you told me never to—”

“Just get it for me,” she said firmly. “Please.”

Dominic’s jaw tightened stubbornly, but he didn’t argue. He rose and crossed the room, stopping before a wall portrait of a forest scene. Dominic lifted the picture and set it down, then pressed one hand against the wall where I saw the faint square outline of a hidden cupboard.

“Here,” Dominic said a bit angrily, withdrawing an antique silver box and handing it to Nona. “I hope you’re doing the right thing.”

“What is it—Pandora’s box?” I half-joked.

But no one laughed, and I sensed that my joke held a deep truth.

Nona didn’t open the box, instead reaching for my hand. “Sabine, there’s something I’ve been keeping from you.” I started to interrupt, but she put her hand up. “Let me say this before I lose my nerve. You see, I—I’m not well. It’s a genetic affliction. One that goes back nearly three hundred years.”

“Nona!” I choked out. “You’re not—”

“No, it isn’t fatal, but it might as well be,” she said bitterly. “I watched my great-aunt Letitia suffer from it, and by the time I learned there was a cure, she was beyond help.”

“So there’s a cure?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes. But—” Her voice quavered. “But it was lost during a dark period in our family history. One of our ancestors created a remedy, then had to hide it when she was accused of being a witch. Directions to the hiding place were divided between her four daughters, including a many-times great-grandmother of mine.”

“Is that what’s in the box?”

“No. But it’s a clue—and Dominic has been helping me figure it out.”

“Why him and not me?” I asked, fighting the hurt.

“You know that answer,” she replied with a pointed look. And I sagged in my chair, blaming myself for denying my gift for so long. Wasted time when I could have been helping Nona.

“Tonight I didn’t even remember going into my office,” she went on in a frightened voice. “It’s happening more and more, moments of my day becoming black holes. Moments, minutes, lost memories. Soon I may even forget you.”

I swallowed back tears, fighting to be brave for my grandmother, although my heart was breaking. I’d never been happier than these months living with her. I couldn’t lose that—lose her.

“What can I do to help?” I asked.

“Work with Dominic to find the remedy.”

“Him?” I shot a resentful glance at Dominic, then swallowed my pride and gave a slow nod. “Okay. How do I start?”

“With this.”

She lifted the ornate silver box and placed it gently in my arms.

“Everything you need is inside. Go ahead—open it.”